Nights of Lust and Secrets
by MissAnnieV
Summary: One thing true about Eliza Schuyler was that she had the biggest heart in all of America. That night, she had seen her husband make love to his best friend, a beautiful man with dark curls and green eyes, and yet she could not fault him for it anymore, despite her agonizing heart.


Drunk, raucous laughter arose from their table, wild and unbound, the unapologetic sound of young people who still thought they were the center of the world, and that hope had not yet abandoned them.

The wine was good, and the company better, and the stars arced over the sky without anyone at the table noticing the pass of time.

Angelica had just finished telling a loud, ridiculous story of the time Thomas Jefferson had tried to seduce her only to fail miserably, and between the eruption of laughter nobody noticed Alexander leaning heavily against John Laurens as he chuckled, his eyes hazy with drink and bliss.

But Eliza did.

She was grinning, but throughout the whole night worry had overtaken her gentle heart. She had always known, from the beginning, that her husband and Laurens shared a truly special connection— the first time she had ever laid eyes on Alexander had been at that party, when she had spotted him leaning against the wall, smirking up at the curly haired man. It had not bothered her at first; she did not worry until she realized how she was all but ignored when Alexander was talking to Laurens, the two men caught up in their own little world— until she started to see the way her fiancée looked at the other man, dark eyes filled with so much _longing_ it would have broken her heart had she not felt the awful pang of jealousy—and until she saw Laurens staring at Alexander when the latter was not looking, and afterwards staring when he _was_ , their lips twitching into secretive smiles.

She let them. She bore the pain and smiled at her husband, loved him as best as she could, hoping and praying that she was wrong about it all.

But that night, she knew everything. Every glance between the two friends, every flirtatious teasing session, all of their deliberate innuendos— it had all meant so, so much more, more so than she had ever expected.

The two were all over each other, and anybody from afar would have thought them only to be the closest of friends. But the way they looked at each other was unmistakable.

It was around midnight when Alex excused himself from the table, sharing a glance so heated and intense with Laurens that it was unbelievable the rest did not notice it. But wine can truly mess with your senses sometimes, none was the wiser.

Except Eliza.

Moments later, Laurens also excused himself from the table and followed Alexander's steps. Eliza felt her throat choke up, and she barely heard Mulligan's story about the time he first rode a horse. It clearly was a hilarious story, because even Burr laughed at this one, almost choking on his drink before Peggy clapped him on the back.

All Eliza heard was a ringing in her ears.

When Lafayette began ranting about God knows what, she could not take it a moment longer. Without a word to anybody, she took off in the direction the two men had left, her poor heart pounding against her ribs.

The house was dark, with only the faint starlight oozing from the high windows. She felt the dread curling her stomach into knots at the thought of what she would find, felt the tears already forming in her eyes, and though she knew she should not jump to conclusions—

And then she heard it.

The low, musky chuckle of Laurens or Alexander, she could not tell which; and the creaking of the floorboards.

Her pulse sped up as she rushed forward towards the sound, already angry words bubbling at her lips, already thoughts of a divorce slipping into her mind— when she saw candlelight spilling from a guest room and she saw them.

They were naked, the candlelight bathing broad shoulders and sinewy backs in gold and russet, muscles rippling as the pair moved lazily over each other, breathing hard.

It had been Laurens who had chuckled, as Alexander had him pinned to the wall, murmuring words between reverent kisses as he trailed wet lips down Lauren's jaw and neck—

"How are your lips so red when I have yet to kiss the color in them?" He groaned, looking up at his lover, and John smirked, baring the long expanse of his throat to allow more access.

"Always the charmer, aren't you? You do realize they might hear us, right?" He answered huskily.

"I do not care." Alexander replied, biting the skin over his collarbone. "What are you doing to me, John?" He added with a growl. "Surely you've casted a love spell over me…" he hissed between kisses, eliciting a gravelly laugh from his Laurens.

"I could say the same of you, my dear Hamilton." He crooned, slipping his elegant fingers into Alexander's hair and pulling him up for a heated, searing kiss, lips moving fiercely against the other, passionate and fervent, until Laurens groaned out, "you are my greatest sin, Alexander."

And Alex moaned, a deep, beautiful sound laced with the same desire that filled his eyes every waking moment his gaze fell on Laurens. "And you will be the death of me." With that, he dragged his lover onto the bed, pushing him down on the sheets and grinning, feral, before lunging towards him and sealing their mouths together once more.

Eliza could not stop staring. She was frozen, frozen with shock but also an emotion she could not quite name. The night after her wedding, Alexander had set her on the bed and kissed her softly, pulling off her dress without even looking into her eyes and only murmuring _it's okay_ once before he had covered her body with his own.

As she watched him with John, the way they gazed at each other between kisses, the low moans and deep snickers as they hissed promises to each other, full of desire and lust and something Eliza refused to acknowledge, she finally realized how much she had been missing out.

"Fuckin' Christ." John swore.

"Language, my dearest Laurens."

"Fuck, you feel so fuckin' good—"

"And you feel _sinful_ —" Alex countered back, sinking his hands into John's thick curls before positioning himself. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, more than okay— _God_ —" He choked.

"Oh _Christ_ — I love you. God, John, I love you, I love you, I _love_ you." He groaned, as he did something that made John call out his name and pant into his mouth, "Fuck, I love you too Alex."

"Don't _ever_ leave me John, ever. You are— Lord, you are _perfect_." Alex purred, watching as Laurens bruised lips fell open, his pupils blown wide with lust— "Promise me Laurens, promise me you'll stay. Because, Lord, I love you so much it scares me."

John pulled him in for another desperate kiss, growling, "I promise, Alex. You're the only one."

"You're the only one too, you've always been the only one—"

And at those words, Eliza felt her heart shatter into a million pieces.

She had to pretend— she went back to the gathering, where everyone was in pieces, cackling like folks at a madhouse; Hercules was slamming the table with his fist, Burr was doubled over with laughter, Peggy was writhing in her chair, fanning herself, Angelica was positively shrieking, and Lafayette was sprawled over the table, laughing so hard his stomach jumped— nobody had noticed Eliza leave, or John and Alex's absence. And for a second, she wanted to hate them, for being so drunk and oblivious. But then Lafayette grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side, still laughing, and she let out a soft giggle, and a rush of gratitude surged up in her heart for him, for all of the stupid fools she called friends.

She laughed with them, told some stories of her own, but every minute that Alexander did not return with John was agony. She did not understand how he could do that to her, cheat on her so blatantly, not just with words or actions, but with _feelings_. Because the love between the pair, the adoration between them was so impossibly real.

Alexander had never looked at her like that. She had never seen _anybody_ look at another person with so much reverence. He had never said words like that to her, had never worshipped her skin the way he did John's, had never kissed her like it was the end of the world.

She felt broken, cheated, but after that night, when the two came back smelling of sex, drunk not only on wine but on each other, she realized that she should have been disgusted by it all— two men together, it was supposed to be unnatural, a sin worse than theft— but she never could muster up disgust. As the days went by and she watched them together, and no longer saw simply lust like she had before —maybe she had only chosen to see lust, because she could handle that way better than love— she saw that the depths of their feelings were so much more than she even thought possible.

After a while, she could no longer deny it. What she had seen that night— their love was beautiful, _exquisite_. She had to acknowledge that. How could it be wrong, when it was so pure, so true, so _tangible_?

One thing true about Eliza Schuyler was that she had the biggest heart in all of America. That night, she had seen her husband make love to his best friend, a beautiful man with dark curls and green eyes, and yet she could not fault him for it anymore, despite her agonizing heart.

It was not merely considered a sin, but a crime, also, to love another man, and she knew this was the only thing those two men could ever hope for. So she kept quiet, suffered in silence, smiled beneath the pain, because she was in love with Alexander Hamilton even if he could never feel the same way about her.

She found them again another night, naked, a tangle of limbs and skin, a chuckling darkly into each other's mouths, and this time Alexander did see her.

"Shit—" He scrambled up, his face filling up with so much fear it tore at her heart a little. "I— Eliza, Eliza please— I can— I can explain, please, d-don't go—"

John was staring at her, dread in his eyes, shocked into silence as Alexander, for the first time, stuttered and stumbled through his words.

"Laurens, I think you should go. I need a word with my dear husband." Eliza said as she turned around to let him get dressed.

As John passed her in the doorway, his clothes rumpled and his lips crimson-bitten, he spoke. "I am so, so sorry, dear Eliza. There— There are no words I can think of— I…" He shook his head and passed a hand through his hair, before giving her a look and striding out.

"Eliza— Eliza, my sweet Eliza, please give me a chance to explain. I— Laurens and I, that is—"

"Alexander, do not break two hearts this evening, by denying your feelings for John. It is bad enough that I have to suffer, but do _not_ break him by telling me that you do not love him Alex."

"Eliza, I can explain—"

"Deny it then. Deny him. Tell me that you do not love him. That this is merely two men unable to satisfy their needs with their wives. _Tell me that you do not love him_."

He looked away, a muscle in his jaw working. "I— Don't make me—"

She gave him a sad smile. "I knew it. Ever since I met you, I've known how much esteem you had for that man. As time went by, I started to wonder if it meant more than simply friendship. And lust— I believe I could have endured lust. But Alex, I saw you with him that other night."

He gawked at her, dumbfounded.

"Which n—"

"The celebration of your appointment as Washington's right hand man. I-I followed you when you left with him, and I saw… everything."

"You've _known_? After all this time, you've _known_?" He said, aghast.

"That night, Alex, I expected to see sex, yes, but I never expected to see so much _love_." And that is when the tears came, burning her eyes as she frantically tried to blink them away. "You have never felt that way for me, you— Alex, you love him. You l-love him, you l-love him s-so much it's—" And then she was crying, crying with the knowledge she will never be loved the way Alexander loves John, crying because she married a man in love with somebody else.

Alexander hurried up to her, drawing her into his embrace and maneuvering around to sit down on the mattress. He was crying too— she felt his tears beading the back of her neck as she sobbed her heart out into the chest of the man who had caused her this pain.

"I am so sorry Eliza. You have no idea." And she knew he was not apologizing for cheating on her. He was apologizing for not being in love with her. She choked through her sobs and he held her closer.

"I just wish you had told me." She said a while later, pulling back from him and wiping her tears away.

"Dearest Eliza, how could I have? Men… Men are not supposed to love other men. They would have killed us and you would have been the shame of the town for marrying a— a sodomite."

"You underestimate me, beloved husband. I would have understood; I t-truly would have." She sniffled at his incredulous look. "Did you know that the first time I saw you, you were looking at John like he was the center of your universe? I— I d-did not realize it at the time, how you were so very in love with him, but if you had told me, I would have seen, and understood."

"Eliza—"

"And I would have married you still, to s-save you from the gallows, without thinking you felt for me, and I would have not fallen in love with y-you." She took a deep breath, and he swiped a finger beneath her cheekbone to catch the last tear.

"Eliza, I am so sorry."

"If only you had told me, Alex."

"I—" He shut his eyes, and when he opened them, they were wide, haunted. "I was afraid. I've been afraid all my life, Eliza. I—" He gazed at her pleadingly. "Don't get me wrong. I like women a _lot_ , but not in the way I should. I have n-never liked girls as much as I should have." He looked away, closing his eyes tightly once more, and Eliza could see him suppressing a myriad of emotions before he spoke again.

"But I could not like boys because it's wrong. I believe I was lucky: I had so many other things in my mind after my mother's death that I did not have to dwell on the fact that I was more attracted to boys than to girls in _that_ way. So I locked those feelings away, until—"

"Until you met John Laurens."

He took a deep breath. "Y-yes… Until John." His fingers clench around the sheets. "I am sorry; I am so sorry." He whispered, and she almost slapped him.

" _Stop_ apologizing, Hamilton! It is even worse when you apologize. You are in love with him, and your love is beautiful, so stop apologizing. I am stronger than you think. Nobody, I repeat, _nobody_ should apologize for loving somebody."

He practically ogled at her. "What did I do to deserve you, you wonderful woman?"

Her lips twitched, but she could not muster up a true smile.

"Alexander, I now know that you will forever love another soul. But I—" She grabbed his hand in both hers, locking gazes with him. "I have never seen two people so in love with each other. You are so in love with him I can barely wrap my m-mind around it. And it would be c-cruel of me to stop you from seeing him. S-so I am l-letting you know, t-that you are allowed t-to love John Laurens, e-even if it b-breaks m-my h-heart." She managed, before bursting into tears again.

"Eliza, Eliza, Eliza…" Alex murmured, wrapping his arms around her and laying them on the bed.

She shook in his embrace, and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was past midnight when her tears finally subsided and her breathing slowed down, her face relaxing. She had almost fallen asleep when she heard her husband's smooth voice.

"I will cherish you forever, dearest wife. This is more, so, so much more than what I deserve." His tone was strained, conflicted, between pain and gratitude. "I wish I would have not caused you this pain. I wish I were not this way. I wish I did not _feel_ the way I feel. You should be disgusted, yet you say you understand. You should hate me, yet you gave me your blessing. If I were a better man, I would stop myself from seeing John, even in my dreams. But I am a filthy coward, and I am in love with him, and I do not deserve this, you perfect woman. I do not deserve _you_." He kissed her forehead, and this time, did not notice the tear slipping down Eliza's face.

* * *

John was on his knees, grabbing Eliza's hand, his green eyes bloodshot and his beautiful face awed. "You— you are the most selfless, wonderful person I have ever had the honor to meet. I do not know what to say, how to put this into words… But I have to let you know that I truly, truly wish that you would not have to feel this pain." And his voice burned with sincerity. "I would take down the stars and the moon for you if I could."

She smiled. "I have said this to Alexander, and I am telling you this: it would be cruel of me to stop two people impossibly in love with one another from being together."

"I could kiss you."

She laughed, but sobered up quickly. "I have to make you promise me one thing, Laurens."

"Anything." He said, standing up.

"Promise me that you will _not_ hurt him. Promise me that you will love him until death claims you both. Not even then. I love him as much as you do, and even if he does not feel that way for me, I will _not_ see him heartbroken."

"I would never hurt him, Eliza. I swear."

They were happy. They were so happy that Eliza could not help but be happy for them, despite the sorrow that will forever cling to her heart. Laurens stayed at their house ever moment that he could, and with them in the house there was laughter to be heard for miles.

Eliza had heard about the story about the split aparts in Greek mythology. Humanity had become too prideful, too powerful for the gods of Olympus to control them. So Zeus had them cut in half, and each human would forever search for his or her other half.

Eliza had never been a superstitious woman. She found it to be, frankly, a waste of time. But looking at her husband speaking to his lover, she could not deny the fact that they were indeed two halves of a whole, two souls who had been lucky enough to find each other, and not spend eternity seeking to fill an empty void.

The last night before John Laurens left and never came back was a night so very similar to the one her heart shattered into a million pieces. Lafayette was there, so drunk he resorted in kissing Mulligan and calling him Adrienne. Angelica was blatantly flirting with Burr despite his tales of Theodosia, and Peggy was cackling at the sight of Hercules trying to push the Frenchman off him. Again, when everybody seemed too drunk to function well anymore, Alexander pulled his lips to John's ear and whispered something, stood up, and left. Laurens was quick to follow.

For some reason, Eliza found herself trailing behind them a while later, and to the same room that she had always found them to claim since that first time months ago.

There— she saw them, bathed in golden light, lithe and sinewy, youthful and beautiful and in love, tangled up together in a moment as picturesque as a Renaissance artwork. She did not see two beautiful men sleeping together— she saw two souls making love to each other, and it was so perfect she wanted to cry.

Laurens was on top of Alexander, kissing him on the lips and jaw and neck, crooning, "I cannot get enough of you. You are so good for me Alex."

And Alex gave out a low chuckle. "I know, John. How could you get enough? Just look at me."

At this, his lover laughed, his green eyes alight with the bliss of a man in love. "Don't get coy or I will not kiss you again."

"Oh you will." Alex flipped them over, and he smirked, lowering himself a breath away from John's parted lips, teasing the crimson mouth before sealing them together. He held himself up, and Laurens had to reach up to kiss him again and again, until, breathless, Alex spoke once more.

"You know I love you, my dearest Laurens."

John gazed up at him, lips swollen, pupils blown wide, a smiled that beautiful, feral smile of his. "And I love you, Alexander."

Their words, their feelings… It still hurt. It still hurt, the knowledge that her husband was completely smitten for another soul. But beneath the pain, Eliza also felt wonder. And throughout the years, the wonder lingered, expanded and swelled, overriding the pain and heartbreak.

Alexander Hamilton was never the same. After that letter, he shattered into irreparable pieces. He had his children, yes, and his devoted wife, but after loving John Laurens so fully, after giving away his heart to the green-eyed man, he had no other heart to give away anymore. He closed himself off from the rest of the world, buried himself in his work.

It got better. And Eliza was always there for him, a steady, caring presence who bore his pain like it was her own. Alexander learned to love her. How could he not? He loved her, even if he could not quite give her the love she deserved, the love she wanted despite her denials. And when he called out John Lauren's name, in his sleep, in the throes of passion, all throughout the years they were married, Eliza found that she could not blame him.

Instead, she was grateful. The pain subsided, overcome by wonder, by gratitude. She was grateful, to have been witness of a great, great love. She was grateful, to have realized that her childhood fantasies were real, that true love did indeed exist. She was grateful, to have been able to see two soulmates, two split-aparts coming together, and becoming one.

" _I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you."_ _–Alexander Hamilton, circa 1779_

* * *

 **A** **uthor's Note: So after watching the play, I was a mess of feelings. I was half crying, half laughing, and I did not know what to do with myself. So I began creating stories for the characters I had fallen in love with. I've had this idea for so long now, and I finally decided to put it in paper. (Or computer, whatever.)**

 **I tried to write this out as something that** _ **truly**_ **might have happened in the lives of Alexander and Eliza Hamilton. And since I both adore Eliza, and ship Lams a little too much for my own good, I wrote this in a way that is equally sad and happy. Eliza deserved a good ending, and Lams a steamy love scene. As my first Hamilton fanfiction, a first** _ **ever**_ **slash fiction, I hope you like it! Please read and review.**

 **Hasta la vista!**

 **Miss Annie V.**


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